


Their Different Lives

by Lacerta26



Series: Keep Your Enemies Closer [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: Harry is not, as many people would care to suggest, an idiot, so when Eggsy texts him to organise their second ‘date’ he goes to speak to Merlin.





	Their Different Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Decision made, then; Eggsy does work for different intelligence agency called Quercus, run by a woman called Clarissa.
> 
> You need to read part one to get this really. I have more ideas too so it may be going somewhere...
> 
> Title from Moonraker.

Harry is not, as many people would care to suggest, an idiot, so when Eggsy texts him the following week to organise their second ‘date’ he goes to speak to Merlin.

‘You’re an idiot,’ says Merlin 

‘I’m quite aware, thank you,’ says Harry, he had already had to come clean to Merlin about his little tryst with Eggsy in order to get a new pair of glasses. The watch, umbrella and lighter were all easy to procure from fitting room three with a minimum of fuss but the biometric security on the glasses and Harry’s slight short sightedness, which he will never admit to, meant he’d had to visit Merlin with his tail between his legs to explain how he’d fucked up negotiations so spectacularly and got fucked spectacularly in the process. 

‘Your boy wants to see you again then?’ says Merlin with a smirk.

‘Yes, and it may well be an opportunity to further explore a ceasefire with Quercus.’

‘Please, you want to get your leg over.’ 

‘Can you just let me know how likely I am to die if I go and meet him?’ 

‘Don’t be melodramatic,’ says Merlin with a roll of his eyes but he clicks a few buttons on his keyboard and Eggsy’s beautiful face appears on his screen. Harry obviously fails to mask his surprise 

‘You’re terribly unsubtle, Harry. We don’t have anything on him from the files on Quercus so either he’s a new recruit or a contractor brought in specifically to seduce you.’

‘I highly doubt they’d bother going that far, he probably saw an opportunity and took it.’

‘Really? He is so painfully your type it’s like he was hand-picked. I absolutely wouldn’t put it past Clarissa. She’s always had a thing for you. Was very put out when she realised you swung the other way as I recall.’

‘That was years ago and, anyway, she was the one who suggested we meet and sort this whole mess out why would she bother sending...’ he trails off stupidly. 

‘I’m not saying he didn’t enjoy himself,’ says Merlin with a quirk of an eyebrow, ‘just that he may have had a teeny tiny ulterior motive.’

‘This is ridiculous we should be on the same side! Not entertaining this turf war so old no one remembers how it started.’

‘World War Two, the Arthur at the time refused to share intelligence because he was a paranoid elitist who didn’t like that they had a woman in charge. Spent too much time with Churchill that was his problem.’

‘I’ve always said Clarissa was an astonishingly smart woman,’ 

‘You know she can’t hear you.’

‘Can’t be too careful.’

‘God, you’re annoying.’

‘Did you at least look up the address he sent?’ 

‘It’s just a pub.’  

‘South of the river!’

‘Don’t be a snob. I’m not wasting resources on you going on a date, Harry. Just keep your wits about you. I’m sure you could take him if it came down to it. In more ways than one I don’t doubt.’

 

The pub Eggsy has chosen has undergone a fair amount of upward mobility since Harry was last in this part of town, all scrubbed wooden tables, mismatched chairs and sweet potato fries that’ll set you back the best part of ten pounds. Eggsy is already at a table when Harry gets there, dressed down today in jeans, polo shirt and cap, sipping on a lager, a pint of guinness opposite. He looks stunning and Harry is momentarily breathless before he recovers a modicum of his sanity.

‘Hello, Eggsy.’

‘Alright, Harry. I bought you a drink.’

‘What is this?’ says Harry as he takes a seat.

‘A drink, guinness.’ 

‘No, what is  _ this _ ,’ he gestures between the pair of them. 

‘I thought it was a date,’ 

‘And what was last time?’

‘Reconnaissance, infiltration, theft,’ Eggsy raises his eyebrows and catches his tongue between his teeth, ‘did you enjoy it?’

Harry can’t help but smile, betray himself just a little, ‘Clarissa sent you?’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘She sent you here, today?’

‘Nope, not this time.’

‘Did you really go to Oxford?’

‘What? Don’t believe a lad like me could get in?’

‘I don’t believe a word you say.’

‘So why ask?’

‘I’m trying to work out what you think you’re doing. Kingsman is not easy to infiltrate. I highly doubt you’ll manage it, Oxford or no, and certainly not through me.’

‘I seem to be getting to you quite well,’ Eggsy slides his hand across the table to run a finger along Harry’s knuckles and as if of its own accord he turns his hand to take Eggsy’s. The smile Eggsy gives him in response is blinding and it’s difficult to doubt it’s sincerity. Harry clears his throat, takes his hand back and sips his guinness; his drink of choice after a scotch or a martini, did Clarissa tell Eggsy that?

‘Yes, as it happens,’ Eggsy’s saying, ‘I did go to Oxford.’ 

‘And I went to Cambridge.’

‘I know.’ 

Harry considers briefly if he cares that this is likely a ploy. He has no Kingsman tech on him today, aside from his suit and his glasses and Eggsy already has a pair of those. Eggsy is giving him a hot little look across the table; Harry does not crack easily under interrogation,  there’s nothing he can get out of Harry except another fuck and he’s just as beautiful in the cold light of day as he was in the mood-lit, stillness of Harry’s hotel room. If Clarissa is sending this boy out to mess with him, Harry is going to be the best he’s ever had, give as good as he gets and will send him back to Quercus with nothing but thoughts of Harry in his head, Kingsman forgotten. Something in Harry’s bearing must change because Eggsy sits up straighter, suddenly serious and Harry finds he want to put that mischievous look back on his face. 

‘Clarissa sent me last time, just to mess with you, nothing serious. You made it so easy, Harry, coming up to me like that. And you’re pretty damn hard to resist, yeah? But I had a good time and I wanted to see you again.’ 

‘Does Quercus know you’re here?’

‘No, they don’t know I’m here.’

‘Yet,’ says Harry.

Eggsy shrugs, ‘people go on dates with people they meet at work all the time.’ 

‘Not everyone works for rival international intelligence agencies.’ 

Eggsy raises his eyebrows in mock alarm, ‘shh, what if they hear you!’ 

‘Then I fully expect to be sent another pretty boy to charm. Rather an odd way to mess with me don’t you think? What’s Clarissa’s game here? Stealing tech you won’t be able to use? Seducing me?’

‘You reckon I’m pretty?’ says Eggsy and either he doesn’t get complimented often enough or he’s a very good actor because a blush spreads sweetly across his cheeks. Harry remembers that blush, knows how far down his body it goes. Harry is not used to feeling on the back foot for so long; it truly does seem like Eggsy is interested, in  _ him  _ rather than Kingsman, but he’s already admitted to originally having been sent out by Clarissa and Harry is not still alive after 30 years as a spy by falling for every pretty face. 

‘Do you live round here, Eggsy?’ Harry says, changing tack abruptly just to watch what it does to Eggsy’s face. He goes from confused to delighted in the space of a second and Harry feels momentarially righted, in charge of the conversation again. 

‘Err, yeah, about a ten minute walk.’

‘Shall we?’

‘What?’

‘Go back to yours,’ Harry says it like Eggsy’s a bit of an idiot, senses it’ll get a reaction; it’s mean, probably a sore spot for him but Harry needs to keep a handle on this control. Eggsy bristles and Harry immediately feels guilty. He’s not a cruel man by any means, despite the job, and if Eggsy is just a pawn in some game being played out above him Harry won’t take advantage of that. He comes to a decision, ‘perhaps not, then,’ his tone conciliatory and Eggsy just...laughs. What? 

‘Piss off, Harry, I ain’t no blushing virgin, as you well know. You ain’t taking advantage, this has nothing to do with work. I’m telling you, I want this, I want you,’ and he decisively sets their glasses aside, his empty, Harry’s guinness still half full, to lean across the table and pull Harry into a kiss, quickly  filthy . Someone wolf whistles when they pull apart and Eggsy gives Harry a lewd look, full of promise. 

Fuck it. Harry does not vacillate when there is a beautiful young man looking at him like that, ‘back to yours then?’

Eggsy nods, ‘back to mine.’

 

They walk side by side, close, and Harry resists the urge to take hold of his hand; it’s 3.30 in the afternoon and he’s off for a shag with a boy who could probably, if not kill him, do some serious damage and despite Merlin’s protestations he has almost certainly hacked in to the CCTV network to keep an eye and Harry doesn’t want to give him any more ammunition. 

Eggsy’s house is a normal looking terrace in a normal looking street, ‘I live with my mate Roxy from work,’ says Eggsy with his key in the door, ‘she won’t be home.’

‘Should you be telling me that?’

Eggsy shrugs, walks into the house, toeing off his shoes in the non-descript hall. Harry follows suit, lining his polished Oxfords up next to Eggsy’s trainers. There’s a lead hanging on one of the hooks in the hallway, and as he walks through the living room to find Eggsy in the kitchen he says, ‘do you have a dog?’

‘Yep,’ says Eggsy pulling a photo of a pug off the fridge and handing it to Harry, 'his name's JB, after Jack Bauer.' 

There are other photos too: Eggsy holding a toddler next to a woman who must be his mother, Eggsy with his arm slung round the shoulders of a woman around his age, perhaps his housemate, Eggsy with Clarissa, both grinning.

‘You’re a terrible spy you know,’ Harry says handing back the photo, ‘I know far too much about you just from the pictures on your fridge. Are you sure you work for Quercus? Or have their recruitment policies become even more lax?’

‘Strangely enough I don’t do a lot of spying  _ from my kitchen,’  _ says Eggsy stepping into Harry’s space, pressing his hands to Harry’s chest, 'and you're being rude.'

His eyes, regarding Harry levelly, are clear and honest and the last bit of Harry’s resolve is chipped away as he pulls Eggsy in for a kiss. He gets his hands on Eggsy’s arse to lift him up onto the kitchen counter, still kissing, wet and open and the delighted laugh he gets in response has him surging forward, catching Eggsy’s bottom lip between his teeth.

‘Upstairs,’ says Eggsy, wonderfully breathless, ‘me and Rox have a rule, no shagging in the communal spaces.’ 

So, Harry heaves him up and spins them round before he sets Eggsy back on his feet. Eggsy grins, takes Harry’s hand to lead him up the stairs. There are more touches of Eggsy in his bedroom; a Millwall scarf draped over the mirror, a photo of a man in dress uniform on the bookcase but Eggsy is bouncing down on his navy blue sheets so Harry stops cataloguing Eggsy's house and applies himself to cataloguing Eggsy’s body. He takes off his jacket and tie, kneels between Eggsy’s spread thighs and pushes up his polo shirt to trace his tongue across the grooves of Eggsy’s abs. Eggsy huffs out a breath and keens in response, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair.

‘What was that you said last time about making me forget me own name?’

‘I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry,’ says Harry into the hot skin of Eggsy’s stomach.

‘What’re you gonna do to me?’ Eggsy murmurs, looking down at him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Harry hooks his fingers in to the waistband of Eggsy’s jeans, runs his hands slowly inward to the fly, feeling the hot line of Eggsy’s cock as he gently pulls down his zip. Eggsy isn’t wearing any boxers and Harry tuts, ‘tart,’ kisses the tip of Eggsy’s dick, almost fond.

‘You like it,’ says Eggsy, lifting his hips so Harry can pull his jeans off, ‘what’re you gonna do to me?’

‘I’m going to bury my face in your arse and eat you out until you’re screaming, dripping, and then when you’re all soft and wet you can sit on my dick until you come.’

Eggsy slings an arm over his eyes, flushed, and groans, ‘ _ Harry!  _ You can’t just  _ say _ things like that. _ ’ _

‘You  _ asked  _ and I seem to remember you had rather a dirty mouth last time,’ says Harry into the crease of Eggsy’s hip, darting the very tip of his tongue out onto the damp skin there.

‘Yeah, but you’re all proper and posh and that.’ 

‘So I should put my mouth to better use?’ 

Eggsy draws up his knees and tilts his hips in invitation, ‘go on then.’

Steadying himself on his elbows Harry applies himself to the task at hand, breathes wetly against Eggsy’s arse, rolls his tongue gently across his hole, savouring the needy whimper it pulls out of him. He kisses and sucks at Eggsy’s rim, until Eggsy's body begins to softly yield and he can press his tongue just inside; at that Eggys howls, hand in Harry’s hair, as he works his hips greedily down on to Harry’s face.  When Harry looks up Eggy’s head is thrown back in pleasure, his dick red and drooling against his belly, painfully hard and his arms are spread wide, hands clutching in the sheets as if he’s trying to stop himself from jerking off. 

‘Harry, Harry,’ he says wildly, dragging his head up off the bed to look Harry in the eyes, desperate and pleading, sees Harry’s still wearing most of his suit, ‘shit, Harry, take your clothes off, come on, fuck me.’

Harry smiles, 'say please,' and Eggsy just rolls himself away, presenting Harry with the beautiful pale line of his back, polo shirt still rucked up under his armpits as he scrabbles in the bedside table. He turns back over a petulant cast to his stunning face, ‘why are you still wearing clothes?’ 

‘Why are you?’

Eggsy pulls his shirt off one handed, holding a condom out to Harry in the other. Gets up onto his knees, squeezing lube on his fingers and reaching between his legs, a sudden blissful tilt to his features as he presses them inside. Harry takes off the last bits of his suit, the last bits of Kingsman, dropped on the bedroom floor of the enemy and climbs into Eggsy’s bed, Harry Hart, alone. He covers Eggsy, bears him down into the sheets and kisses him, a brief moment of calm before he presses inside Eggsy’s body in one slow thrust. 

Eggsy clings to him, face hot and damp in the hollow of Harry’s throat, gasping out nonsense as he works himself down on Harry’s cock. Harry feels his orgasm building quickly, holding himself back, after teasing Eggsy for so long. Slipping wetly in the lube and his own spit dripping from Eggsy's arse Harry can't remember the last time he had a shag this good. He closes his eyes and focuses on the tight grip of Eggsy's body round his dick, Eggsy's fingernails sharp points of sensation across his back, grounding him. He keeps his thrusts shallow, watches for the exquisite look that flits across Eggsy face every time Harry hits his prostate, makes himself draw it out, winding Eggsy higher and higher. 

‘Come for me, Eggsy, darling, can you come for me?’ and Eggsy shakes his head even as his face pinches in pleasure at the crest of orgasm, throwing his head back so Harry can scrape his teeth down the column of Eggsy’s throat as he shudders in Harry’s arms. 

It’s almost an afterthought, Harry’s own orgasm, when it comes down to it, stuttered out, sharp and glittering, between one breath and the next as he watches Eggsy, sweating and shaking, collapse back onto the bed, sated. Eggsy pulls him down, wrapping his limbs firmly round Harry’s body and kisses him sweetly, eyes shut like he wants to fall asleep even though it’s just gone five in the afternoon.

'I can still remember my own name, Harry,' Eggsy murmurs with a smile, ' _and_ yours.' 

Eggsy  _does_ sleep, then, and Harry lets himself doze. By the time he remembers that Eggsy has a housemate, another spy, for fuck’s sake, who might come home and catch them, with extreme prejudice, it’s properly dark outside. He slips out of bed as quietly as he can, gathering his clothes and reassembling himself. He uses Eggsy’s shirt to gently wipe the come from both their bodies before throwing it in the laundry basket and tucking the duvet around Eggsy, softer in sleep, his barely-there hard edges mellowed even further. He presses a final, gentle kiss to the bow of Eggsy’s mouth and leaves him to sleep.

The whole house is dark, unfamiliar and still, as Harry walks downstairs into the hall. On impulse he backtracks into the kitchen, stares at the pictures on the fridge for a long moment before selecting one, wrinkled at the corners with age, of Eggsy looking impossibly young and holding up a tiny puppy, the pug he’d shown Harry earlier. Harry slips it in his pocket and lets himself out of the house, tries not to think about the reality of what might be simultaneously the best fuck of his life and the worst decision he’s ever made. He can't make a habit of sleeping with the enemy, he can't make a habit of starting to  _care._

  
  
 


End file.
